The Game Changer Read online

  Kate stopped in the centre, concentrating on the roar of the wind, which was gaining strength, causing the loud creaking of branches on the taller trees. She tried to break down the different sounds, gaining a fuller concept of the terrain surrounding her. She heard twigs breaking underfoot. Was someone else in the woods? If they were, they might be close. She knew the area could play tricks with sound, the wind and streams pulling conversations and other noises from miles away, misplacing them, making faraway things seem closer than they were, but then she heard the sound again. She glanced around her, trying to work out which direction the noise had come from. It was impossible. Calm down, she told herself.

  Taking a couple of steps forward, she heard the crunch of her own feet on the forest floor, then stopped again. Could her footsteps be echoing? As a child, she wouldn’t have thought about any potential danger. She would have focused on the task in hand, simply following the ball. Leaning down, as she would have done all those years before, she mentally and physically retraced her steps, searching in the darkness of the lower woodland for an imaginary ball that she would never find.

  After a few moments, she sat up on her hunkers, looking all around her again, realising that she had limited visibility. She couldn’t see behind her. Even if she turned her upper body as far to the left or the right as she could, there was still a blind spot. He must have been observing her, contemplating his next move.

  Was that why she felt someone was watching her now? Was her mind playing tricks on her yet again? Telling her she was no longer alone? Standing up, she hesitated before turning, part of her feeling more like the twelve-year-old girl than her adult self. What would she see if she turned? Would he be standing waiting for her? Would he say, I remember you, Kate?

  Her body moved in slow motion. It was like some elements of what she was feeling were in the present, while others were firmly rooted in the past.

  The terrain didn’t change as she turned. It was as if it was mocking her, taunting her to find the subtle differences that could give answers. The sights, sounds, smells and wind chill remained the same; the only things looking back at her were the trees, tall and dense and capable of hiding secrets. Slowly her eyes moved towards the sky. It was clear and blue. Then, with an innate mixture of anxiety and concentration, she looked down again, searching through the lower foliage of the spruce trees, past the thick bark and into the dark undergrowth, before finally focusing on a brown mound, minuscule in the distance.

  With each step she took towards it, the mound grew larger and clearer, until she stared into the beady eyes of a dead female blackbird. She picked it up, thinking of the dead raven on the steps of the apartment building the day before. The raven had been dead for some time, but the blackbird was still warm, its neck severed, the blood spilling between Kate’s fingers, the brown foliage covered with muck. She turned it over, seeing that both wings had been torn from their sockets, each hanging limp. The wounds couldn’t have been made by a woodland animal. The cut to the neck was too clean. It had been slit by a blade, the torn wings pulled back in an almost identical fashion.

  A number of thoughts merged in her mind. Someone had done this to the bird. They wanted her to know they had made it suffer. And that someone was still watching her.

  Chloë

  MAMMY SAYS I SHOULD LOVE THE ISLAND. SHE SAYS it’s beautiful.

  I like the wind because it blows in different directions, and sometimes if I run fast enough, I can work out the exact spot where it goes from right to left.

  I miss my school friends, and my other friends from where we used to live. Most of the people here are big people. Some are friendly, but I don’t like everyone. Mammy says it’s not good to dislike the people here. Now I don’t tell her about the people I don’t like, not now.

  I miss Daddy too. He said he loved me more than the whole world, but he is in the whole world, and I am here. A woman with a baby doll has come to the island. She thinks it’s a real baby, which is silly. I asked her could I play with it, and she said I was too young. I wanted to ask her why she thought the doll was real, but I didn’t. Mammy used to say it was good to ask questions, but she doesn’t say that now.

  I like the water here too. I really like the waves. They can be ginormous, and when I’m by the water, the sound of the waves and seagulls blocks out loads of stuff. I miss my bedroom, and our street, and buses, and escalators in shopping centres, and birthday parties. I had one friend here. His name was Donal. He liked the wind too. He was a bit older than me, he was ten.

  A few weeks ago, when we were messing in the water, he told me he could swim home if he wanted to. I told him that was stupid, but he didn’t listen. He started swimming straight out. ‘Look, Chloë,’ he shouted, ‘I can swim to the sun.’ The sun was orange, and halfway down in the water. He waved to me a few times, and I think I told him to come back in, but I can’t be sure. His head kept getting smaller and smaller. When it was really tiny, it went in and out of the water, disappearing and reappearing. Then I couldn’t see his arms any more, even though a few minutes before, he was waving them like mad. The sea ate him – gobbled him up whole. That’s what I told everyone. They didn’t say anything bad when I told them that the water had eaten Donal, but they looked at me all serious and I wanted to cry. I didn’t. I wish Donal was still here, but he’s gone, like the escalators and all the other stuff.

  I found Mammy spaced out this morning. I knew she was spaced out because Donal’s mammy used to be spaced out too, and that was what he used to call it. Her eyes were all funny, and she did everything really slow. Donal’s mammy isn’t spaced out any more. She does a thing called meditation. Humming and closing her eyes and raising her arms up to the sky with her legs crossed. I don’t know why she isn’t spaced out any more and Mammy is. I asked Jessica why Mammy can’t do meditation instead of taking medicine, and she said everyone was different, and she needed her pills to get better. I don’t think Jessica is a doctor. If Mammy dies, I’ll never get home. Mammy uses a wheelchair now when she leaves the room. She doesn’t leave the room much, except for the meetings, or if she needs to talk to the camera. Sometimes Jessica lets me ride on the back of the wheelchair. Sometimes I slip, and my foot gets caught in the wheels, and I scream. Mammy doesn’t say anything, and Jessica keeps on pushing.

  A new boy arrived with the woman called Sarah. He’s much older than Donal. I think he’s nice. He threw my Frisbee up so high it took ages to come back down. My neck hurt looking up at it in the sky. I nearly toppled over and he laughed. His laugh reminded me of Daddy’s. It sounded like a donkey. Mammy used to say Daddy laughed like an idiot, especially when he was curled up in a ball on the floor. She wasn’t really giving out about him. She was only messing. When I jumped on Daddy’s back, he would laugh more, and Mammy would say there were two of us in it, a right pair. I miss Daddy laughing too. I miss Mammy saying stuff like that. I hope the boy stays for a while. He says he’s here on holidays, but other people said that, and they’re still here.

  Saka calls me one of his island children. He says he knows the sea ate Donal, and that makes me feel better because he believes me. There are other children here too, but Saka says I am more special than any of the others. He says that when he whispers in my ears it’s the sea talking to me, not him. I don’t know how he knows that, but everyone says he knows lots of stuff.

  Saka says that I don’t have to go to the meetings if I don’t want to, so I don’t. Some of the children go anyway. He says I’ll know when I’m ready, even though I don’t know what I need to be ready for. When I asked Jessica, she told me, ‘It’s about becoming grown-up,’ and if I’m a good girl, I won’t have to wait too long.

  Sometimes I like to hide behind the big rock down at the water’s edge. The big rock is where Donal and I used to play. We called it that after we measured all the other rocks. We didn’t have a ruler, so he used my body instead. Donal had a purple marker, and I stood beside each rock while he measured me against it with one eye squi
nting closed, drawing an imaginary line from the top of the rock to me. When we worked out the biggest one, it got the name Big Rock. Sometimes, when the tide comes in, you can’t see all of it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there, or that it isn’t Big Rock any more.

  Daddy used to say, ‘Your eyes don’t see everything.’ Now I know what he meant. Mammy used to say, ‘You need eyes in the back of your head,’ but I haven’t worked that out yet.

  My granny died before we came to the island. Mammy said it was because she was sick. I got upset because I get sick sometimes and I didn’t want to die. Mammy told me not to worry, that really Granny died because of her age. I wish she had said that in the first place. Then she said Granny was in Heaven, but she doesn’t say that any more. All she says is that Granny is gone. Because I am six that means I’m not old at all. I’ll live longer than anyone else on the island, and then I’ll be on my own, without people or escalators or Daddy or anything except the waves and the sea and the wind. I like the wind the best. It didn’t eat Donal.

  Spring Valley Village, Texas

  HIS FIRST NIGHT IN SPRING VALLEY, AND LEE HAD slept better than he had done for a long time. He hadn’t set the alarm, because he didn’t need to. John had left early for a basketball game with the two boys, so Margaret in the kitchen was his only company. He liked Margaret. She wasn’t the kind of woman who intruded on your personal space, unless you happened to invite her in.

  ‘Coffee?’ she asked, as he sat down on one of the high stools at the kitchen counter.

  ‘I’m not used to a woman spoiling me, Margaret, but sure, why not?’

  ‘Black, one sugar?’

  ‘I can see why my brother fell for your charms.’

  ‘Good memory, that’s all. Mind if I join you?’

  ‘It’s your kitchen.’

  She stretched her arms over her head, and he took in her curved shape, thinking of a whole different set of reasons why John had been drawn to this woman.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s always good to have you with us, even if it’s only for a few days.’

  ‘The demands of being a New York detective,’ he laughed, ‘you can never get too far away from it.’ Picking up the cup, he took a mouthful of coffee, then raised the cup to her, as if in salute, saying, ‘Just as well I love it.’

  ‘What is it about it that you love?’

  ‘You mean besides catching the bad guys?’

  ‘Besides that.’

  ‘In one way or another, Margaret, I think I always wanted to be in the force. John will tell you, even as a kid, I fancied myself as a bit of a hero. That was before, of course.’

  ‘Before what?’

  ‘Before I realised how muddy the waters could be. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of grey in my line of work.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’

  ‘People are complicated.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that either.’

  Margaret topped up her coffee cup, allowing a long, easy silence to settle between them, until Lee said, ‘I like my personal space too. I like living alone. It suits me.’

  ‘Do you ever think about Marjorie?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘I can’t believe how long she’s been gone.’

  ‘Neither can I, but the past is always part of the present, in one way or another.’

  He didn’t mind her bringing up Marjorie. In fact, that was one of the reasons he liked visiting. If Marjorie had lived, she would be the same age as Margaret. They had been in the same year in high school.

  ‘Any regrets, Lee?’

  ‘Yeah, lots of them.’

  ‘Which one stands out?’

  ‘It’s not like you to pry.’

  ‘John’s worried about you.’

  ‘He shouldn’t be.’

  ‘He thinks you need a good woman in your life.’

  ‘I had a good woman.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts, end of story. Marjorie was here, now she’s gone, and there isn’t a darn thing anyone can do about it.’

  ‘I guess not.’

  He looked at her, not saying anything for a few moments. She didn’t rush him.

  ‘My main regret, Margaret, is that I didn’t make contact with Marjorie before she died.’

  ‘You didn’t know she was dying.’

  ‘I knew I loved her, and we were miles apart.’

  ‘All relationships go through bad times. You weren’t to know she wouldn’t get better.’

  ‘I know that, but still. You asked me my big regret, and now you have it.’

  ‘Has it changed you, Lee?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He took another gulp from the coffee cup. ‘Now, if something is crawling at my insides, I don’t let it go. I stick at it until, one way or another, it’s resolved. Life’s too short to leave important questions unanswered.’

  ‘Which is why you’re such a good detective.’

  ‘I guess things have a habit of coming full circle, eventually.’

  Kate

  ALL THE WAY HOME, KATE FELT RATTLED. WALKING back down the mountain road, she kept turning around to see if anyone was following her, checking the signal on her phone in case she needed to get help. When she saw her car up ahead, her anxiety didn’t lessen, and after pressing the key fob to open it, she locked the doors as soon as she was inside. She looked ahead, seeing an empty road, nervously turning around, double-checking that the back seat was empty. That she was alone.

  Leaning down, she pulled a facial wipe from her handbag. The blood from the dead bird had dried on her hands. Sitting in the car, she noticed there were specks on her jeans too. After cleaning her fingers, she wiped what she could off her jeans, then looked around her again. If someone had followed her, and was watching her now, they were doing a good job of hiding. She pulled her seatbelt down with such force that it got stuck halfway, and she wanted to scream but managed to extend it and snap it into place. She turned the key in the ignition. The engine cut out. She tried again, but it did the same. Stop panicking, she told herself, or you’ll flood the darn thing. Counting to ten, she turned the key for the third time. Thankfully, the engine ticked over.

  As she travelled down the mountain, she told herself she was safe, that she was overreacting, and the further she drove, the less her heart raced. On reaching the apartment building, she parked the car and ran up the steps, still feeling anxious and threatened. Even when she shut the main door, she spent more time than normal checking the communal hallway, breathing heavily. Turning the key in her apartment door, her hands were shaking. Once inside, she slammed the door behind her. It was then that she saw the letter on the floor.

  The Game Changer

  LOOKING AT THE FRONT DOOR OF KATE’S APARTMENT building, the Game Changer visualised her inside, imagining what she would do once she found that another note had been delivered. She’d seemed nervous getting out of the car. It was obvious she sensed the Game Changer was following her, and she was becoming increasingly rattled.

  Kate needed to think more about death. People argue all the time about it or, rather, the form death will take. Some people want it to happen fast. They say things like they don’t want to suffer, thinking they might be able to choose. Others prefer surprise, or they want to be prepared, to have time to say goodbye. Even the death of animals can wind people up. Many enjoy meat created by the slow bleed, a method preferred by those of Islamic inclination. There will be argument and counter-argument about the cruelty involved. Many say that speed reduces pain and advocate more mainstream methods.

  The Game Changer watched a pig slaughter once. There was a lot of noise. Pig squeals are particularly piercing to the ear. The pigs walked into a pen as if they were about to be given a meal, but they soon sensed that death was hovering. Each one got an electrode with two pads placed behind their ears, a charge administered to stun them. Not all of the animals were knocked out effectively. Some were still conscious, even when they were hanging upside down. A large incision was made to bl
eed them, the location of the incision, and the precision of the blade, determining how quickly the pig would die, as the blood dripped into the buckets below. One way or another, the animal died. Arguments about how much suffering was involved can only be resolved by those who suffered the death. That is, if animals could talk, and dead animals at that. With Kate, it will be a slow bleed. She will cross paths with Stephen first. His dreams dictate his actions, and dreams are more easily manipulated than reality.

  CENTRE OF LIGHTNESS

  20 Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme

  Confidential Record: 136B

  Most people enter deep sleep several times a night.

  The first analysis of sleep stages was completed in the 1930s, when scientists began to do overnight EEG recordings.

  Deep sleep is the time of near-complete disengagement from the environment. Many physiological processes occur during this time.

  REM, or deep sleep, is the dumping ground for unresolved issues, things that won’t go away, things that are bothersome.

  Stephen has many things like this in his life, things that will never leave him.

  Kate will infiltrate his deep dream state, as she did the Game Changer’s.

  NB Even in death, she may not disappear, not completely.